


Kom War

by eternaleponine



Series: The 100 Clexa Reunion [10]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Negotiations break down, and Clarke and Lexa find themselves facing what neither of them wanted - fighting for peace.</p>
<p>Follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5723251">We Are Coming Home</a>, and is the last installment in this series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kom War

"Where are you going?"

Clarke turned and saw Raven standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. _Home,_ she almost said. "I have to go back," she said instead. 

"Why?" Raven asked. "You just got here."

"Because war is coming, and we need to be prepared."

Raven took a few limping steps closer, and it was clear that what had happened at Mount Weather had done her no good. Clarke closed the distance between them so that Raven didn't have to. "Who's we?" Raven asked.

"Those of us who want peace."

"That's kind of a contradiction," Raven pointed out, "for the people who want peace to prepare for war."

"I know," Clarke said with a sigh. "If there's any way to avoid it, we'll try, but... I don't think there is. And it's not going to be Grounder versus Sky People this time. It's going to be Grounder against Grounder, Sky People against Sky People, and it's going to be ugly."

"Why would we fight our own people?" Raven asked. "What do their wars have to do with us?"

"You're in the middle of it," Clarke said. "Literally. Bellamy is talking to one of the clans who isn't as interested in keeping the alliance as the Commander is. If it comes to war, you will all be dragged into it, one way or another."

"We don't owe the Commander anything," Raven said, and the bitterness in her voice left a bad taste in Clarke's mouth, and she didn't know which side Raven would be on. Not that she didn't have reasons – good ones – to not be the Commander's biggest fan, but at a certain point, didn't you have to figure out how to put things aside?

"I know," Clarke said again. "Look, I have to get back. Just... be ready."

She rode back to Polis. Indra and the other Trikru guards that had accompanied her followed, but Octavia stayed. She waited until Lexa was done meeting with her advisors before telling her the news, because she didn't know who ought to know what at this point. Lexa sank down into a chair. "That's not what I hoped to hear," she said, "but it's what I expected."

"There's still a chance," Clarke said. "I think there is. If the Ark is looking for assistance through the winter, if they're looking for reassurance that they're not going to suddenly come under attack by your people... we can do that, can't we? We can give them that?"

"We can try," Lexa agreed. "I have been considering..." She frowned, motioned for Clarke to come closer, so that her voice did not carry much past her lips, and Clarke had to lean in to hear. "I have been considering putting it forth that we accept the Sky People as a thirteenth clan. You would represent them on all of our councils, and all decisions being made would include you."

"Me, specifically? Or me as in the people of the Ark?"

Lexa raised an eyebrow. "I assumed you specifically. You are their leader."

"I'm not. I just..." Clarke sighed. "I walked away."

"That does not mean that you're not still their leader if you walk back."

"You would have me go back?"

Lexa frowned, and it was clear to Clarke that she hadn't thought all of this all the way through. It was an idea that she was working on, and she was getting to see the preliminary stages instead of just the end result. If Clarke went back to her people, what happened to them?

"You, or someone else that they choose," Lexa said finally. "Whoever they feel will best represent their interests."

"And if they don't want that?"

"Then what do they want?" Lexa asked. "They fell out of the sky and landed in our place. They cannot think that they can simply do whatever they want now, that just because they are on the ground that it belongs to them."

"They _can_ think that," Clarke said, "and some of them do." If looks could kill, Clarke would be dead. She held up her hands. "I didn't say I agreed with them. I just said that some of them think that way."

"Like Bellamy?"

"I don't even know what he's thinking anymore," Clarke admitted, her shoulders slumping. "Or _if_ he's thinking."

"So what do we do?"

They made a plan. They were up all night, and in the morning they presented it to those Lexa trusted most, and sent riders to bring the word to the various clan leaders, and the Sky People. They came together, and they tried to negotiate, with Clarke representing the interests of the Sky People as the other clans discussed whether to recognize them as equals, even though she wasn't sure that she was the right person to be doing it. She didn't trust anyone else to speak for them when things were still at such a sensitive stage. 

But in the end, it didn't work. Tensions were already too high, and no one could agree, and the leaders of the _Azgeda_ seemed hellbent on proving to everyone else that Lexa was not the right person to be leading all of them. It was subtle enough that Clarke didn't know how to counter it, and Lexa often couldn't without proving their points (that she was young, that she was too weak in the face of conflict, that she was driven by her emotions) so in the end, negotiations failed, and the leaders of the clans went back to their own people.

And when Lexa sent ambassadors to the Sky People anyway, offering aid and promising to uphold the informal truce, it was too little, too late.

"War is coming," she said one night, her hand resting over Clarke's on her chest. 

Clarke wasn't sure whether she was talking to Clarke or herself. "You did everything that you could," she said. "You tried."

"Trying is not good enough," Lexa said. "I must succeed. Now we prepare for battle, and bloodshed, and in the end I don't know what will be left." 

"Whatever is left, we'll rebuild," Clarke said. 

Lexa didn't answer. Clarke lifted her head to look her in the eye, but they were closed. She wasn't sleeping, but she didn't open her eyes, and Clarke could understand why she was hiding. She kissed her softly once, then again, and again until finally Lexa looked at her, with stormy eyes that filled with tears, and she didn't try to hide them, didn't try to stop them as they spilled, and their kisses tasted of salt and sorrow, and there was nothing either of them could say that would change what was happening or make it better, but they tried anyway without words to soothe the cracked and broken places in each other.

Because there might not be another chance.

It was the truth that they lived with every moment as they prepared for war. They hoped for the best but braced for the worst, and every moment might be the last. Lexa gathered her warriors, not just from the Trikru, but from other clans as well... but not all of them. Not the Ice Nation, and not some of the others. Some had loyalties that were divided, and Clarke wasn't sure that there were only two sides.

And then it came. The day they had to ride out, or take a chance that the war being brought straight to Polis' gates, and Lexa wouldn't risk that. Clarke rode with her, knowing that Lexa would have preferred that she stay behind where she was safe, but knowing too that this was her war as much as Lexa's at this point. In some ways, maybe she had even caused it. By destroying the mountain, the common enemy that had bound the clans together was gone. She had done what had to be done, what was best for her people and best for everyone in the long run, but would any of them live to see what happened in the long run?

Would they live to see the next morning, or the one after that?

They slept curled into and around each other, or tried to sleep, but it was elusive, and in the morning Lexa was up before dawn, and Clarke watched her for a moment, her breath steaming in the chilly air. She looked over at Clarke, who tried and failed to force a smile. Lexa nodded, as if she understood, and maybe she did. 

They ate. Not much, but a little. It might be a long day... or it might be a very short one. All too soon, it was time to leave the tent, to rally the troops, to ride into battle. They got to the flap of the tent and then Lexa stopped. "Wait," she said softly. 

"What?"

Lexa's hands came up, cradling Clarke's face between her palms before letting them slide to either side of her neck, and Clarke swallowed, searching Lexa's eyes as she just stared at her as if trying to memorize her face. And when Lexa kissed her, suddenly she understood.

"No," she said, pulling away. "Don't you dare, Lexa! Don't kiss me as if this is goodbye. We are _not_ dying."

The faintest hint of a smile found its way to Lexa's lips, even as she stiffened from the sudden rejection. "You said that once before," she murmured.

"And I was right!" Clarke replied. "We're still here. Both of us." _Together, against all the odds._

"I know," Lexa said. "But I am not just _a_ target, Clarke. I am _the_ target."

_Bring down Lexa and bring down the alliance._

"You're not dying," Clarke insisted, and repeated another part of the conversation that was all too familiar, but this time... this time the words meant so much more. This time they meant everything. "I need you."

For a second, Clarke thought that the words might break Lexa down completely, but then she straightened, drawing herself up, and she was the Commander and Lexa at once, and this time when she kissed Clarke it was not a parting but a promise. "May we meet again," she whispered.

"May we meet again," Clarke whispered back.

* * *

Lexa didn't lose Clarke in the battle; they had planned to separate themselves, to lead from different fronts, different groups. The two of them together would have been too much of a target. There was a risk, yes, of not being there to defend the other, but it was a calculated one, and one that they had made the decision – together – to accept. Clarke had her gun, but limited ammunition, and was not as strong with a blade as Lexa would have liked, but they'd run out of time.

Again.

She wiped blood from her face where it had splattered into her eyes, yanking her blade from another body, and she had lost count of how many that was. It was her own people she was killing, because they were all her people. They were not Mountain Men. They were not Reapers. Sickness twisted in her gut but she swallowed it back. 

And then suddenly it was if time stopped for a minute, because she found herself looking in the eyes of the woman who had orchestrated all of this, who she had spared once for the sake of peace, who would not be given that same consideration this time.

"Nia," she said, omitting her title to tell her exactly where she stood. "We finally meet."

"We do," she agreed. They circled each other slowly, weapons still out, knowing what was going to happen, what _had_ to happen, but biding their time. "It's been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

"It never had to come to this," Lexa said. "This is your doing."

"Do you think so?" the queen of the Ice Nation asked. "I don't think it is."

"All I ever wanted was peace," Lexa said. "Everything I have done, that has been my goal."

"So you say," Nia replied. "But I don't think that is so."

"What do you think I have done all of this for, then?" Lexa asked, shifting her weight, the subtlest step forward, testing. 

"I think you want power," Nia said. "I think you want power over all of us. You call it peace, but ask us all to bend to your will. I bow to no one."

"I never asked you to bow," Lexa said. "We could have been equals."

"You are not my equal," Nia said, and lunged, and there was a flurry of strikes, clashing of metal, and then they separated, back to circling and testing each other's defenses. "You are weak. You have always been weak." Nia stopped, smiled. "Tell me, do you think your pretty _Wanheda_ will seek the vengeance you did not when I present her with your head?" She let her blade drop, but Lexa knew that it was a ruse. "Is it _you_ she loves," Nia taunted, "or power?"

This time it was Lexa who attacked, knowing that the reaction came from emotion, but the threat could not go unanswered, and she had no doubt that it was a threat, and that this was the reaction that Nia was seeking. But she was still careful. She still kept her guard up, and Nia's blade glanced off the armor that she wore, biting deep into the leather that encased her forearm but not penetrating.

The time for testing was over. The time for negotiating had passed. There was no chance of resolution here, except with one or the other of them dying.

Lexa did not see the cut to her leg coming... or at least, she saw it too late. Pain seared like flame through her, and she went down. She was close enough, though, to bring Nia down with her, and they tangled on the ground now, swords forgotten as daggers were scrambled for. Lexa managed to get the upper hand, and pulled her knife from its sheath, sinking it deep into Nia's neck and feeling her blood pulse over her fingers.

She watched the light flicker in her eyes, the anger seeping away as quickly as her life, and Lexa pulled the blade out. " _Yu gonplei ste odon,_ " she whispered, and closed the dead queen's eyes.

It was only when she tried to push herself back to her feet that she realized that she hadn't been the only one to strike a blow in that final scramble. She looked down at the handle that protruded from between the metal bindings of her armor, and closed her eyes, because she knew there was almost no chance that the blade was not poisoned.

Her first thought had always been for her people, but not her last.

"I'm sorry, Clarke," she said. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Clarke felt it when Lexa fell. They all did, somehow. Some witnessed the moment when Queen and Commander ended the battle that had been so long coming, and it rippled out from there, and in its wake the fighting slowed, as if they realized that they were fighting against their own people, and for what? What did it solve? And where did it end, if not here and now?

She wanted to run to Lexa, to tend to her, to reassure herself that what she was alive, because she couldn't die. Not here, not now. This wasn't her time. It couldn't be. Clarke had told her that they wouldn't die, and she would not let Lexa make a liar of her.

But first she had to make sure that the fighting had well and truly stopped, because that was what a leader did. It is what Lexa would expect. As much as she wanted to say to hell with it all, this was one of the choices, the impossible choices, that they were forced to make. So Lexa would have to hold on for a little while longer.

She found herself face to face with Bellamy, and they looked at each other and lowered their weapons. "Is this what you wanted?" she asked. 

"No," he said. "This was never what I wanted."

"Then why—"

"I did what I thought was right."

"Do you still believe that it was?"

"I don't think it matters what I believe anymore," Bellamy said. "I'm tired of watching the people that I care about die."

"Then go back to those people - _your_ people – and tell them to drop their weapons, and I will do the same."

Bellamy looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "May we meet again," he said.

"May we meet again," she echoed, but she wasn't sure that she meant it.

When Clarke finally got to Lexa's side, she thought she was too late. Lexa was sprawled on the ground, blood leaking into and across the frozen soil, staining the dusting of snow that crusted the dead brown grass, a dagger sticking from her ribs. "No," she said. "NO!" 

Her medical training kicked in, and she reached for Lexa's neck, checking for a pulse. Faint, but there, and she was breathing. She was alive. For how long, she didn't know, but she was alive. "Medic!" she shouted, then " _Fisa! Beja!_ Please!"

What happened next was a blur. How they got from the battlefield to the impromptu hospital was a mystery. It didn't matter, really. Clarke didn't care. She stayed at Lexa's side, touching her cheek, tapping it gently, then rubbing her knuckles over her sternum (which hurt, she knew it hurt, and she didn't want to hurt her but that was the point) until she shifted and opened her eyes with a groan. "Clarke." Her voice was a rasp, barely there. She lifted her hand, but didn't have the strength to bring it all the way to Clarke's cheek. "It's good..." she started, then stopped, blinked. "Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me... goodbye."

"No," Clarke said. "No, I won't. This is not goodbye." Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them away because she needed to see Lexa's face, needed to memorize all of the details of it just in case. " _Yu gonplei nou ste odon nowe,_ " she whispered. " _Hodnes nou laik kwelnes, Leksa._." Love is not weakness. " _Hodnes laik uf, en ai hod yu in._ Please." She took Lexa hand, held it against her heart. She didn't care if she was getting the words wrong. Lexa would understand. She had to. " _Ai na laik yun uf nau, ba yu laik gona._ You need to fight. _Gon ai. Gon yumi._ "

Lexa blinked, too slow. "Kiss me..." she breathed, "anyway."

Clarke did. She kissed her, heedless of the blood on her lips, and felt Lexa's hand go slack in hers as her eyes closed completely and did not struggle back open. She checked her pulse again, and it was weak. So weak. She was going, and soon she would be gone.

She forced herself away from Lexa's bedside and found her mother, grabbing her, pulling her away from whatever she was doing because whatever it was was less important than this. "Please, Mom," she said, and it came out a whimper. "Please, you have to save her." She pulled her over to Lexa. "She's still alive. Please."

She felt her mother's eyes on her, and could sense her hesitation. In a triage situation, in these conditions, Lexa was a black tag. They both knew it. 

" _Please_." She swallowed hard. "I've lost... everything. I can't lose her."

"I'll do what I can," Abby said finally. "I will do everything I can."

And then she was barking orders, and people were moving, and Clarke tried to squeeze her way in but her mother forced her out. "You are too close to this," she said. "Get yourself checked out, and then help the others."

Clarke obeyed. What else could she do? Her mother was right. She could not be objective with Lexa, and what good could she do her if she was blinded by tears? She went to work on other patients, and they were from both sides of the battle, and it didn't matter. They were all one people – Trikru and Azgeda and Skaikru and all of the rest – and if Lexa died... If Lexa died then Clarke would have to pick up where she left off. Somehow. And that started now.

* * *

The pain hit her even before she managed to drag her eyes open, and she groaned, wondering if she'd made the right choice after all. Because it _had_ been a choice to come back. She could have stayed where there was no pain, where there was no more fighting, no more suffering, no more struggle to survive. She could have stayed with Anya, Gustus, Costia...

But she'd chosen to live. She'd chosen... "Clarke..."

The word was a strangled croak as she finally managed to pry open her eyelids. She tried to push herself upright as she realized she didn't know where she was, where Clarke was, what had happened or how long ago, but the pain of it was enough to make her break into a sweat, and when cool hands pressed her back down, she obeyed.

"Welcome back," a voice said, and Lexa shifted her gaze to focus on its source. The one they called Abby, who was one of their leaders, and their healer... and Clarke's mother. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Clarke?" she asked again. 

"She's resting," Abby said. "She didn't want to leave your side, but I finally convinced her to try to get some sleep. I'll go wake her."

Lexa shook her head. "Let her sleep."

"She would never forgive me if I didn't tell her you were awake right away," Abby said, smiling at her. Her hand rested on her forehead, and the touch lingered. Maybe she was just checking for fever, but then she brushed back her hair, the backs of her fingers stroking her temple. Like... like she might have done for Clarke, if she was just waking up from being sick or hurt. 

Was this what it felt like to have a family? It had been so long...

But Abby didn't go, not immediately. She looked down at Lexa, then lowered herself to be closer to her level. "Can I ask you for just one thing?" 

Lexa nodded. She owed her her life; whatever it was that she wanted would have to be less than that debt. Unless...

"Try not to break my daughter's heart," Abby said. 

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief, that she had not asked Lexa to give Clarke up. "I never make the same mistake twice," she replied. 

"Good." Abby straightened, and tucked back one last stray strand of Lexa's hair. "I'll get Clarke."

And then she was gone, and a minute later, Clarke was there, still rumpled with sleep, blinking fast like she didn't quite believe what she was seeing, and for a second Lexa thought she would throw herself at her, and Lexa would have accepted that, would have endured any amount of pain for her, but Clarke stopped herself at the last second, and reached for her hands instead.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I've been better," Lexa replied, smiling because here they were, both of them, alive. Clarke looked relatively unhurt – a few cuts and bruises, perhaps, but nothing to worry about – and her own wounds would heal. They had to.

"You almost—"

"I know," Lexa said, lifting a hand to touch Clarke's cheek, stroking her skin with her thumb. "But I didn't. I came back."

"Came back?"

"I could have gone," Lexa said. "I could have gone, and let my spirit pass on, let the next Commander be chosen, let it all just go... but I couldn't. Not when I knew you were waiting for me."

And that was the truth of it – the absolute and honest truth. This decision she had made with her heart, and nothing else. She had not chosen to live for her people. For the first time since she had become Commander, she had no put them first. She had chosen to live for herself, for Clarke, for them and what they had and what they could have. For love.

"I was so scared," Clarke whispered, leaning so close their faces were almost touching. "I don't—"

"You would have been okay," Lexa reassured her, sinking her fingers into Clarke's hair, stroking the back of her head and neck. "You are strong; you would have been okay. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." 

Clarke kissed her then, and it was soft and gentle when both of them wanted it to be more, but not here, not now... not when she hurt this much, and not when Clarke's mother might be watching. Their lips parted reluctantly, and for a minute Lexa just breathed, just cradled Clarke's head in her hands and looked at her and breathed and smiled, and their world was small and sweet and perfect.

But the outside world was still outside, and they were drawn back into it by a clatter and a curse, and Clarke sat up but didn't leave her. Still, the moment had passed and Lexa had to ask, "What happened? After?"

"Both sides just... stopped. Their leader was – is – dead, and ours... we didn't know. It wasn't immediate, but people started to wonder, I think, what they were really fighting for. Because it wasn't one clan against another. It wasn't Grounder versus Sky People. It was..." Clarke shrugged, shook her head. "So many people died, and when all was said and done, no one really knew what they had died for."

"What's happening now?"

"Now they're waiting. There is sort of an unspoken truce as they wait to see whether you live, or whether there will be a new Commander, and if there is, what they will do. Whether they will keep up the peace, or destroy the alliance."

"I need to get up, then," Lexa said. "I need to see my people. They need to know I'm alive, and that the alliance stands, and that the Sky People _will_ be part of it. It is the only way that this won't keep happening."

"We'll send someone out to tell them," Clarke said. "You're still—"

"No," Lexa said. "They need to see _me_. They need to hear it from _me_."

Clarke's jaw tensed, and Lexa knew she wanted to argue, but she didn't. "Not for long," she said. "Your injuries are serious, and if you move too much, you could start bleeding internally, and we might not know it until it's too late."

"Not for long," Lexa promised. "Help me up."

It turned out not to be quite that simple. First they had to convince Doctor Griffin that it was absolutely necessary. Then Lexa tried to convince them that it would undermine the whole message if she was carried, but she lost that one when she realized that putting weight on the leg that had been slashed (which she'd forgotten, because the pain in her body was far worse) was almost impossible. So she agreed to be carried to a point where it only be a few steps to where she could stand and be seen, and then go the rest of the way under her own power.

Then she had to wait for her bandages to be checked, and for clothing that was not slashed and bloodied to be found and brought. Clarke helped her change, and did not comment on the fact that every movement made her wince. She helped her fix her hair as best she could, and it wasn't perfect but at least they'd gotten most of the clotted blood from it.

It was only a few steps up to the top of the rise after they set her down, but it felt like the longest distance she had ever traveled, and she had to concede after a single step that she would need help, so she made the ascent with Clarke at her side, and that felt right, and fitting. She surveyed the people below her, the air hazy with smoke from the funeral pyres that burned everywhere. So many lives lost, and they settled on her soul like weights, but Clarke kept her upright.

Slowly, the people began to take notice, and every face turned toward her.

"People of the Alliance," she addressed them, pitching her voice to carry even though it hurt to draw enough breath to do so, "Blood has answered blood. It is time to put our grievances aside. It is time to find a better way. All of us, together. Should not life be about more than just surviving?"

For a second, there was no answer, no response. And then, almost as one, her people - _all_ of her people – cheered.

It wasn't the end. She knew it. There would be more blood, and there would be more death. But it was a start. 

"Thank you," she said to Clarke, dropping her voice and leaning a little more heavily on her. 

"For what?" Clarke asked.

"For showing me that there is another way. That we deserve better."

Clarke looked at her, eyes searching for a moment, and then she kissed her and this time neither of them pulled away, even though everyone was still looking. It didn't matter who saw. The kiss was a pledge and a promise, of life and of hope, sealing what Lexa had never dared to let herself believe could come again. 

" _Ai hod yu in, Leksa_ " Clarke murmured.

"I love you too, Clarke," she whispered back.

Love was not weakness. Love was strength, and there was room for it in this world, and they would prove it. To each other, and to everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is it - the end of this story. Thank you all for reading. Now we brace ourselves for whatever season 3 brings!


End file.
